Paint Chips
by xoxo.magpie
Summary: Nothing Hermione and Draco set out to do, including painting their unborn child's bedroom, seems to ever produce results. T for language. Oneshot. HG/DM. Pure fluff.


Paint Chips

"What on _earth_ are you wearing?"

Frowning, Hermione glanced down to her choice of outfit, failing to see the problem with it. Perhaps it wasn't her normal tweed skirt and matching suit jacket, nor fancy blazer but, it was certainly appropriate for the occasion at hand.

"Painting clothes, darling. I should be asking you the same question, though."

For, if Hermione were poorly dressed for elegance or status, Draco was certainly poorly dressed for painting and as they stood facing each other they silently appraised their partners outfit.

Draco was wearing jeans that probably, Hermione mused, cost more than her childhood home and a polo tee-shirt that could have been fresh out of the package. Casual by far for him, but he would cry as soon as a splotch of paint touched either garment, and that was no good. Hermione, on the other hand, was sensible in a worn tee-shirt that was stretching wonderfully around her protruding front and, in doing so, failing to cover all of her back matched with a pair of short styled overalls that also strained over her belly. Her curled hair was in a rough pony tail that had been pulled through the baseball cap she was wearing to protect her from stray paint drops.

Neither seemed pleased.

"Draco, really. You're going to get paint on you, you know."

"Not if we do this the way I want and use magic."

"You already heard my reasoning for that, Draco! I don't want my child's room infused with magic before she- or he- is even old enough to understand the concept. Besides, this is supposed to be fun for us, a new experience."

Sighing laboriously, Draco nodded stepped closer to his rather old-fashioned wife. "Alright then, whatever you say. Now, lets get this done so that we can get to more important things..." his voice dropped to a low purr and his hands made their ways across her shoulders, rubbing softly as he felt her curve back towards him.

"So, I was thinking we paint it red, seeing as we're not sure of the gender. It's neutral and a gorgeous colo-"

"You hypocrite."

"Excuse me?"

"Miss. No-Magic-For-My-Babies, you're already influencing them to your house, you minx."

"I would never-!"

"Then, we'll paint it green. It's settled."

"Excuse you! I don't want my babies growing up sly, conniving little fuckers-"

"Language, dear."

"There is in no way this room is being painted green."

"Please, love. It's a much more neutral colour than red. It's peaceful and earthy so the buggers will fall asleep faster. Red is harsh and angry."

"Then, we'll paint it gold. That way they'll feel loved, warm, shimmering. Don't you think that's a good idea?"

"Silver. Besides, you're being completely unreasonable." Draco retorted, hands handing loosely in his pockets, Hermione's placed firmly on her hips. "You know defiance is futile with me, love. Think about it. Our wedding, here. Your wedding dress, silver with green in your hair. We still sleep on my green and black sheets, the library is still colder than you'd like it, face it darling, I always win."

"Ah, you're forgetting then, your favourite red shirt? What you claim to be my 'sexiest' bra, red. The gold bathroom, the gold accents in the living room, my friends come for dinner even when you expressly told them never to set foot here. We're painting this room with no magic and, dare I say it, you're not wearing shoes. I've had more of an influence into your life then you'll admit it, Sir."

Frowning in defeat, Draco glanced around the room, looking for something to grasp onto to pull her back down but it was no use. She had a superior memory and henceforth tended to win arguments with him over trivial things such as these.

"I still maintain that we paint the room silver. Instill a sense of regality early on."

"How will our children ever feel loved growing up in a silver room? It's cold, cruel, unfeelin-"

"I grew up in a silver room."

Groaning softly, Hermione leaned against a bare wall and sank to the ground, banging her head back against it as she did so. "Here we go again." She murmured, and Draco couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on, love, I turned out alright, didn't I?"

"Barely."

Standing again, with a hand on her belly as reassurance. "No. I was raised in a yellow room but you don't suggest me raising our children as Hufflepuffs, do you?"

Rolling his eyes slightly, Draco stepped towards Hermione once more, knitting his brows together as he then scanned the expanse of wall left to them. "How about a compromise? We paint it my way, and then I'll let you have your way with me..."

Hermione shot him a glare that sent him stepping slightly backwards. "How about we compromise in a different way?"

"Are you suggesting a... tie?" he questioned, lip curling at the thought of such nonsense.

"I'm suggesting we paint the room red," before he could protest that her offer was in no means a compromise, she held a finger up to silence him. "_and_ silver."

It took a moment for the image of the room in this mismatch of colours to sink into his mind, and then he nodded slowly, surely.

"How do you propose this match?"

"I'm sure you can imagine it..." And Hermione was now pressed against Draco, fingers trailing down his flat chest, protruded belly pressing against his flat chest as their lips met.

He laughed softly and turned their intertwined bodies so her back pressed against the wall and kissed her again.

"Oh, yes. It's looking absolutely wonderful." He purred, and she laughed softly as she realized all hopes of painting the room that day were utterly and completely lost.


End file.
